Chapter 23: Hiring a Coach

That night Blair got her parents’ permission to start working and the next day, she met us for breakfast after we did our weekly ride. Grandpa is nice enough to give Blair and me a ride into town. He drives a compact truck with a back seat. She is cramped back there but doesn’t complain.

Before we go, I load the modified Norco into the box. Performance Bikes is our first stop. As soon as I come in the door, Daniel rushes out from the back, saying, “It’s great to see you again, Trent. I suppose you are here to pick up your bike. Steven loves it.”

Hearing his name, Steve looks up from doing a tune-up on a customer’s bike. He comes out from around the counter, greeting me and saying, “Love is an understatement. If it were a woman, I would marry it. I can’t believe how well it handles. I even took it down the backside of Mt. Doug, where there are no bike trails. There were times I thought for sure I would crash, but it handled so beautifully. Every hill I took it down, I was able to destroy my previous best time. You should have seen the other bikers drool.”

“I’m glad you liked it. That is only a secondary reason for coming today. I have another employee that needs kitting out.”

I introduce Blair to them. Daniel speaks up, “I will not sell you the same bike you got for the rest of your employees. It isn’t the bike for her. She will have the frame bent on her first ride and will have no control.”

Hearing that, Blair is almost devastated. She is conscious of her weight, and it is a sore point for her. She isn’t exactly fat, but she weighs a lot more than a typical girl her age. A little more speed and she would be the perfect rugby player.

I tell her, “Blair, He wasn’t commenting on your weight. Top of the line bikes like that are designed for tiny people. Somebody of your leg strength would destroy any of the bikes used on The Tour de France. You will have more speed and control with a heavier bike.”

Steve is half her size. He looks at her and says, “Listen to Trent. He knows what he is talking about.”

Steve and I leave Daniel and Blair, letting them find a suitable bike. I take Steve to check out the Norco and put the Scott he trialled in the truck. I allow him to take off on the Norco, telling him to be back in a half-hour because I have to stop in at Russ Hay’s.

We do our best to get Blair kitted out, but there isn’t much for women’s cycle clothing in her size. The bike is sized, we have done all the shopping we can do here, and Steve still isn’t back. I have never seen Daniel mad before, not even in my first life. Sure, he would occasionally look at me like I was an idiot, but only when I was acting like one. It was a half-hour after I told him to be back that Steven shows up. He is hurt and missing his helmet.

He gets off the bike, limping, but has a shit-eating grin on his face. He doesn’t notice how angry his boss is. H

“Sorry, I’m late. I had a bit of a spill. I would have died if it weren’t for your bike. It is even better than I could ever have imagined.”

I ask, “What happened?”

“I took it down this side of Mt. Tolmie. I was doing fine until I got to the bottom. I didn’t expect the slope to change so quickly. I was heading almost straight down. All of a sudden, the ground was coming fast. There was no way to transition from the cliff to the ground. Any other bike would have been destroyed, and my skull would have been smashed open. The shocks took a lot of the impact. I still slid off the pedals, and it is going to hurt to pee for the next month, but man was it ever worth it.”

I laugh at him, saying, “Ya, I don’t think anybody has ever tried to take a bike down that face before.”

Daniel is coming unglued.

“Are you crazy? What if you wrecked his bike? Do you have any clue how expensive it is? What would he do? He is supposed to drop it off for testing today.”

I step in, saying, “No worries. The bike was designed for abuse. If it broke, I would just have to tell them the design failed. I would buy another bike and start over, making a better one.”

It doesn’t calm him down any. I just hoped Steven wouldn’t get into too much trouble. The bike is supposed to be tested, and that is what he did.

Since we are late, we don’t stick around for the theatrics. Gramps helps me load the bike, and we take off for Russ Hay’s.

We get to Russ Hay’s and are greeted by a gorgeous looking saleswoman. She introduces herself as Alva. She is a tall blond with an impossibly skinny waist and is the kind of thing wet dreams are made of. As soon as she hears my name, she perks up. She excuses herself and heads into the back to let Russ know I am here.

When she comes back, she doesn’t get back to work. She stays to flirt. Since Alva is a salesperson, I ask, “Would you mind helping Blair to find some cycle clothes? She is just new to the sport, and we bought her a new bike. Unfortunately, my other partner didn’t have any clothes in her size.”

Again, Blair is visibly saddened by the reference to her size. In my last life, I had a bit of the same issue. I mean, try and find cycle clothes for a 285 lb man.

The military let me have an hour off, twice a week, for physical training. I would wake up early to add to that time and do an Olympic size triathlon. The local triathlon team trained in Thetis Lake, early in the mornings. When fat old me showed up for the first time, they all tried hard not to laugh. I wasn’t concerned. I wasn’t there to train with them. It was just a coincidence that they trained there. After months of training, they all respected me. They couldn’t understand why a guy as big as me would even try to do that much exercise, forget doing it as often as I did. At my weight, riding a bike that distance would normally cause bone splints, if not, break your tail bone. In all that time, the only reason I didn’t break any bones was because they were hardened from the years of abuse. It saddened me that, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t lose weight. I understood why, but it didn’t make it any easier to take.

When I was 20, my stomach valves started failing. One or both would fail, sometimes they would fail open, and other times they failed closed. My mother knew all about it and what caused it but refused to say anything. Eventually, it got to the point where the upper valve failed closed for six months. I could only eat about two tablespoons of oatmeal a day. Even that had problems getting into the stomach. My esophagus dilated and formed into something like a small storage stomach where food could seep into my main stomach. This actually benefited me years later. I became homeless. When I did get a chance to eat, I could eat almost two days’ worth of food and had it slowly seep into my stomach. After a big meal, I could last days without getting hungry.

While my stomach valves were failed closed, I lost a lot of weight and slept for 20 hours a day. Since I was living up north, it took six months for me to see a specialist. Years later, when talking with Mom, she confessed to knowing what the problem was. It was a hereditary genetic defect. She claimed she didn’t tell me because she wasn’t satisfied with what the doctors have been telling the family for generations. She wanted the doctor to come up with his own conclusion without any preconceptions. It didn’t matter to her that I should have died because she was too much of an asshole to let me know what was wrong. The doctor and I ruled out all hereditary issues because Both my parents claimed we had none.

Unable to eat for that long and sleeping that much changed my metabolism. Within a year, I went from 135 lb to the mid-200s. I kept gaining weight until I was 40-years-old and almost 300 lb. This time, I know what is wrong with me, so I can do things to prevent it from ever being a problem.

In any event, I understand where Blair is coming from. I feel bad for Blair. As for myself, she reaffirms my desire never to let my body go, in any way. Not that she could have prevented her problem, but I can prevent mine.

Russ comes out, saying, “Trent, it’s good to see you. Have you brought it with you?”

“I have, but it needs to be checked out. A tester just tried to take it down the cliff side of Mt. Tolmie and didn’t stick the landing. I didn’t see it, but he accredits the bike’s superb handling and the suspension to his survival. The frame and suspension seem to be in good order, but you will need to check all the sundries.”